


Feeding Frenzy

by Saeru



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Axiom Nexus
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeru/pseuds/Saeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dirge (Animated) decides to go for a crunchy IDW cassette snack, he gets more than he bargained for.</p><p>This work is set in Axiom Nexus, a canon Transformers setting in which mechs of many universes find themselves the guests of the transcended 'Transtechs' in a giant, multi-level city. It was written for a friend as part of a set of ebay auctions, and she paid a whole five dollars for it. She gets all the credit (or ire) for the idea.</p><p>Warnings for mature content, vore(?), sexiness(?), interfacing, and bizarre violence.  Its...just bizarre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding Frenzy

**Author's Note:**

> This needs notes.
> 
> OOOOOOH does this need notes.
> 
> The Dirge in question is from Animated, specifically from the toy bio that was released for the Seeker activators. His original Starscream aspect was 'Greed,' which was later amended in the allspark almanac to 'Gluttony.' This Dirge in particular was gifted with a multiversal 'stomach' capable of digesting virtually anything. He's constantly hungry.
> 
> Frenzy is your average, run of the mill Frenzy, IDW style. I took the flavor of his cassette dialog from episodes of G1, and threw in a dash of the 'crazy' that IDW Frenzy is known for.
> 
> I think that is all.

The segmented tunnel constricted in the low light, sending a spray of greasy droplets down to splatter on his armor.

It was sickening. Unnatural. Too unnatural, and Frenzy tried his best not to shudder, terrified the motion would shake his precarious foothold loose. This was nothing like the inside of any transformer that he’d ever seen, and he’d seen at least a few of them. Nothing was this _wet._

Metal screeched too close to his audials, and he swore as he realized the sound was coming from his hands and feet, scraping over the slippery walls, trying to keep purchase frantically as the interlocking plates shifted again. He was leaving scratches, he knew, and still it wasn‘t going to be enough to help. He was sliding, slowly, down into the abyss, held only by the force of friction from his limbs pushing hopelessly against all sides. It wouldn’t last forever.

The tunnel widened, suddenly, retracting all around him, pushing away thoughts of winching his way back up and replacing them with horror as he realized there was nothing left to hold on.

Frenzy screamed.

The scream cut short a moment later as he slammed into a jutting metal beam, his fingers scrambling over the surface, finding a grip again just before he tumbled off. He dangled, precarious, holding on for his life. Around him the curved walls were shaking, vibrating unsteadily, a deep, rumbling sound penetrating to the core of his spark. It took him too long to resolve the noises, too long to realize just what the wretched earthquake was.

Dirge was laughing.

In anger and desperation he kicked out, trying to get purchase on the tunnel with his legs, wrapping his arms tightly around the thin beam he had caught. It spanned the width of the gap, lodged in between the segments, but no matter how far he kicked or how hard, the tunnel seemed too wide to reach the edges of.

He was done for. Slaggit all.

“I’m gonna kill ya, ya fragger!” He roared up the length of the tunnel, looking longingly at the tiny shaft of light above. More laughter followed, and, wincing, he clung. Liquid was still splashing over him, and from below, a foul stench was filtering up. This, he decided, was hell.

He was just over the stomach now.

No wonder he couldn’t get his legs to hit the walls.

Frag, it was nasty. Something was bubbling down there, and the little droplets that were splashing him tingled like they were acidic. All-too-clearly, he remembered the sadistic grin on the face of the jet as he’d picked him up a moment ago, and unsanctimoniously dumped Frenzy down his throat. Did mechs make that kind of expression if they couldn’t actually ingest what they were eating?

No, they didn’t. He was screwed.

That was not what he wanted to be thinking right now.

He needed a way out.

“RUMBLE.” He screamed.

::Gimme a damned minute.:: His brother answered back over a short-range transmission. ::He stopped trying ta grab me when he ate yous, an da Boss ain’t picking up. ::

So Soundwave wasn’t coming. That was a bad omen, if he’d ever heard one.

::I aint gonna die like dis!:: He cried back, plaintively. ::You gotta do _something._ ::

“Stop that.” The tunnel shook, and Frenzy realized the giant jet who’d eaten him was speaking. His faceplates scrunched, and he held on. “Stop talking. You’re my dinner, and dinner should be quiet.” There was a pause. “Unless you’re screaming, because that would be acceptable too.”

Frenzy obliged.

He also kicked out, again, swinging on the beam, rocking back and forth and back and forth until he finally hooked a leg over the edge and clung there, tightly, still yelling obscenities.

“Oh, haven’t heard _that_ one before. I‘ll add it to my list.” The jet laughed, and tried to clear his throat. Amidst the sudden vacuum of air, Frenzy gripped tighter, leaving a dent on the thin, corroded metal that was currently saving his life. “How come you are not digested yet?”

“I ain’t telling! _._ ” He shouted back, and transmitted again. ::Get me _outta_ here!::

“I said _stop that._ ” Dirge hissed, the tunnel shaking as the giant, smooth-plated jet stomped a foot. “If you don’t stop broadcasting, I’m going to find your brother and eat him too.”

“Don’t yous…want that anyhow?” Frenzy queried, unconvinced by the threat.

“Well, yes, but I can actually find him if he’s signaling.”

Behind his tiny yellow visor, Frenzy’s optics widened. “Slagging jet! Ya don’t _tell_ us dat! Ya just go _do_ it? What kinda malfunctioning Decepticon _are_ yous?”

::Frag it all, if he can hear dis I am outta here!:: He heard Rumble transmit. ::Try not ta die on me, okay?::

::I will, poi-sonally, rip dat spark outta yous chest if you let me get eaten by dis jet.:: Frenzy replied, as angry as he could manage given that he was still shaking in fear.

“Found you!” He heard the jet exclaim, and found himself praying to whatever mechanical god might be able to hear him that his brother didn’t wind up being swallowed, knocking them both down into the nasty smelling pit below. Getting eaten was the most agonizing, embarrassing death that he could think of.

Getting eaten by a fellow ‘con was even worse.

The throat constricted again, as it thundered in a rhythmical way--the jet was walking, then running, probably chasing after Rumble. No more transmissions came through. No more shouts could be heard from outside. The horrible, greedy laughter was the only constant.

Already, his joints were aching from trying to cling onto this slippery bar, his servos slipping, the stress pounding hydraulic fluids through his lines. In his arms, he could feel his drillers spinning in agitation, could feel the heat building in his circuitry, could feel the high-pitched frequencies that always kicked in when his life was threatened.

No.

No.

He could _not_ have an episode right now. He couldn’t.

No.

Distantly, he heard the jet’s engines warming up, the whine complementing the erratic waveforms that were scratching in his head. Dirge was going to take off. He was going to fly away.

He was going to fly away, and then Soundwave would not be able to find either of them.

He was chasing Rumble, or he was trying to dislodge Frenzy, or he was going to get somewhere safe, and Frenzy would be eaten, and Rumble would be next, and nobody would know what had became of him.

Slag.

Slag this.

Slag it all.

He couldn’t keep control in this environment, not without Rumble or Soundwave around. There were only two choices left to him, and of the two, ‘Go crazy and drill his way out’ was a whole lot better than ‘Go crazy and fall into the rancid stomach.’ He’d just have to hope that he’d still be lucid enough for the first while avoiding the second, but…either way, he wouldn’t be lucid enough to fear his death.

That was some relief.

“Alright, you asked for it.” He laughed, unhinged, and felt the servos of his legs tightening to grip the beam as both his drills unleashed themselves from where his hands had been. “If you already think dis is fun, den we’s gonna have some _fun._ ” In the dimness, he sat up, optics unfocused on the segmented wall in front of him, tiny motors in his wrists already warming up.

The frequencies were taking over. He couldn’t really stop them, if he tried.

It was time for a _real_ Frenzy.

He just hoped there’d be enough pieces to pick up, when he was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Dirge thought on his accomplishments for the day, he found it was the most exciting to write out a list. It showed up green on his HUD as he flew over the city, pleasing him with its long list of achievements, pleasing him even more to see it written out over the backdrop of _more_ things he could achieve. It was wonderful to live in a place where so many _possessions_ were just waiting for someone to locate and possess them, and if they were hard to uproot from the ground (like buildings) then that just meant he’d get more for his effort.

Things had value, if they were big.

Property had value. Roads had value, and airstrips had value, and shopping malls were full of little things and had even more value. Individuals had value, too.

Cassettes had a lot of value, because it was dangerous to own one if you weren’t a Soundwave, and it was dangerous to try and keep one if you knew there was a Soundwave nearby.

This danger had been partially remedied by the fact that, if he could digest something, it became a part of him and wasn’t around for any Soundwaves to reclaim. It couldn’t be taken back. It was his, and would be his _forever._

The bright green lettering on his list that proclaimed ‘Frenzy’ as one of his conquests for the day made him extra pleased because of that, even if the other brother had managed to escape. If he could get Frenzy digested in time, then he’d have eaten another little spark, and Dirge was sure that if he had enough of them eventually it might ignite a tiny spark in the empty chamber of his own. Maybe.

It was worth a try, at least.

For now, however, the problem seemed to be that Frenzy wasn’t…quite…digested. Not yet. Dirge believed it had to happen soon, but the string of tiny curse words that occasionally filtered out of his torso was a strong indicator that, somewhere inside him, the cassette was still alive.

That needed to stop.

“Hey.” He frowned, tapping on his cockpit glass above his stomach. “Are you dead, yet?”

This time, there was no response.

Confident that this meant things were starting to go smoothly, Dirge purred a nasty purr, his engines choking as they sputtered out the unusual exhaust that eating biological components produced. It was a unique and terrible color.

He liked that too.

“Well, good.” He preened, changing directions in mid-air, appending a bright green ‘lunch’ to the bottom of his soon-to-be accomplished list. “You’re right on schedule.” At the third cycle of the afternoon, the high-class human establishments disposed of any unclaimed food left over from their mid-day feasts. If he could get to it before it was thrown in the garbage, then it wasn’t technically ‘trash.’ And, as an added bonus, it was from good restaurants, so it was probably valuable. He’d never tried to figure out if it could be resold.

Getting it out of his stomach would have been too difficult, anyhow.

For now, he was hungry. Again.

He was always hungry, even when he’d had too much. Eating a transformer wasn’t _generally_ too much, he’d noticed, as long as they were a tiny one like Frenzy, but his stomach was already bubbling in anticipation of lunch.

At least, he guessed it was anticipation.

He’d had difficulty digesting all the bits off a transformer in the past, especially the little glassy bits that their visors were made of. Cockpits were the worst, and didn’t taste too great, besides. Frenzy might have been giving him difficulty, at the moment, but he was sure it was nothing that a little Chicken Cordon Bleu could not resolve, especially accompanied with those delicious plates they served it on, and the crunchy delight of silverware.

Only, he wasn’t hungry.

Instead, he was in terrible, excruciating pain.

Unable to adjust his landing pattern in light of the searing agony, Dirge only caught a glimpse of the intended dumpster before he slammed into it, rolling suddenly against a solid brick wall.

There was a beautiful explosion, paper fluttering upward, aluminum cans arching into the air, trash bags dumping their contents onto the concrete as everything was upended, including himself. He saw his heels, still burning, silhouetted against the brightness of the sky. He saw the bright yellow streak he left behind him as he skidded, his wings an agonized mess, toward the foot of the alley. He saw his wondrous, delightful Chicken Cordon Bleu plate lost in a smear of chocolate, ketchup, and cooking oil.

It still looked delicious.

It was, however, absurdly beyond his reach. He came to a stop, finally, road burn itching along his backside, cramped within an alleyway that could not possibly accommodate his bulk. His wings were pinned, wedged in between two buildings. His legs were caught beneath him. His arms could reach, unfettered, but the left one was crumpled and the right one didn’t seem to be responding to him, now.

He was stuck.

He didn’t understand.

A moment ago, he’d been flying perfectly, and then…

Pain.

Excruciating, horrible pain.

Dirge howled, feeling his stomach sloshing, bubbling, and stabbing him repeatedly. This shouldn’t have been happening.

This…

How…

Stomachs didn’t stab mechs, did they? Was this normal? Did all stomachs have limited warrantees that he had not been told about? Was he going to die?

“STOP IT STOP IT.” He screeched, reaching his functioning arm toward his abdomen to claw at it relentlessly. “YOU ARE MY STOMACH, YOU HAVE TO _BEHAVE._ ”

It was laughing at him.

He could hear it.

It was laughing, and buzzing strangely high-pitched, whirring with vibrations that made his trapped wings twitch and shudder. Amidst the pain it felt almost surprisingly…good.

The laughter suddenly switched to coughing, and then cursing, and as Dirge tried to focus on the sound he began to realize how familiar the curse-words sounded.

Of course.

Of _course_ it was Frenzy, and the high-pitched frequency was from his tiny little drills, eating their way through his soft stomach lining. He’d been an idiot to not chew before swallowing, and, it seemed, cassettes were made of stronger alloys than the average mech. How else could he avoid being digested?

This was incredibly agitating.

Dirge, however, had no intention of letting it go on.

“I know you can hear me, Frenzy.” He coaxed placatingly, his tone a sweetness edged with vinegar. “You’re not being a good cassette.”

“Go defrag a hard-drive!” came echoing from inside of him, followed by a sharp and unhinged laugh.

Dirge scoffed, and hissed a low, mechanical hiss. “Don’t make me drink a vat of acid.”

“Just whaddya think’s _inside_ a yous, if it ain’t acid?” The pain returned, along with the tiny and strangely soothing vibrations, and Dirge couldn’t help but whimper.

“Don’t.” He whined, breathless. “I’ll do it. I’ll drink acid. You’ll have it dumped over you, and it will burn.”

“And you’ll have acid leaking into your internals, you insufflatable jet!”

Dirge paused, trying to work that phrasing out. “Do you mean insufferable?”

“Yes.”

It was the rest of it that actually made him anxious, however. His stomach lining could handle any substance, thus far, but he was pretty sure the rest of his insides could not. If Frenzy had managed to drill through the lining, he stood a decent chance of being dissolved from the inside.

That was one of a very small number of things that Dirge did not, in fact, want.

“Stop it.” He ordered, the edges of fear beginning to creep into his voice. “Stop doing whatever you are doing, right now.”

“Heh. Heh. Hehehehahahaha…yeah, right.” Frenzy sniggered back, and continued chuckling, speaking hurriedly to himself in low tones that Dirge could not make out. “Too late for dat!”

“Too…too late?” Dirge fretted, squirming against the walls that trapped his wings. “But you’re miine.” He whined, again, pushing on the brick-work, clawing his fingers at it to try and dislodge the mortar and rock. “You have to do what I say.”

Only laughter answered him, and deeper, rumbling vibrations resonated outward from his insides, erasing the ache in slow, undulating waves.

It felt…more than good.

Some distant, self-aware part of Dirge knew that it shouldn’t have. The rest of him didn’t care.

It felt good, and he wanted it. It felt good, and it was caused by something that was _his_ , and he wanted _more._

“Way I see it, yous got it exactly wrong.” Frenzy’s voice purred, louder than it should have been in Dirge’s head. He laughed, again, and with a sinking feeling Dirge realized exactly what system the tiny cassette had just drilled into from inside him. “You’s mine.” The little voice said, and Dirge could hear it clearly, transmitted directly to his processor through a hard-line connection.

The cassette was plugged in.

Frenzy had found an _input jack._

“And you’s gonna have to do what _I_ say, now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

If there was anything else Frenzy said, it was drowned out in Dirge’s outraged scream.

He wasn’t entirely lucid enough to remember what he’d been planning on saying, anyhow, so he laughed and let it go, plodding onward to the next connection node.

The jet’s systems were enormous.

Normally, Soundwave only used him or his brother to help in the odd brute-force hacking attempt, since neither of them had really been programmed for finesse, but that wasn’t stopping Frenzy, now. He knew how to get into another’s systems.

He knew how to get into another’s systems from _inside_.

It was, heh, kind of what cassettes were made for.

It was also the only thing keeping him on the verge of sanity, at the moment, and he could feel the funny tickling in the back of his processor, warning him that some of his base fail-safes were suspended in ‘last chance’ mode. That was perfect.

‘Last chance’ mode meant that he was currently broadcasting distress, that Soundwave would be able to find him, that most higher functions like ‘logic’ and ‘deduction’ weren’t going to be of any use and probably wouldn‘t trouble him. He was comfortable here, jacked into the jet, and all he had to do was keep Dirge grounded long enough for Soundwave to come rip him out.

He was content with that, and, even better, he was warm.

With a grin, he nestled into the bundle of wires, trying to remember what he’d just been thinking about. He seemed to have a lot more processing power than normal, and he could hear somebody screaming…

Oh.

Right.

Dirge.

Dirge was angry, because Frenzy had hacked into his motor systems. Not…just…his motor systems. No.

It was better than that.

All around, he could feel tiny surges of electricity, little pinpricks of delight that made him shiver in ecstasy. Dirge loved to _feel_ , and Frenzy could feel everything he could, even the way the large jet’s wingtips trembled against the brickwork that entrapped them. He could send the right impulse, even, and make the other tremble more…

Heh.

Right.

He had to keep Dirge here, didn’t he.

He had to keep the jet from working his way loose and flying.

He had to keep the jet from turning over, and accidentally dumping stomach acid onto him. That was easy enough.

Reaching out, Frenzy stroked a connection panel, feeling the friction of current warming it instantly to his touch. Somewhere, distantly, he could hear Dirge moan, could feel the jet shifting around him as if trying to scratch an itch…

…but that was nothing compared with the feedback that rushed through the circuits, lighting Frenzy on fire with the large jet’s _need._

“F…Frag.” He whispered, instantly rubbing up against the node again, overwhelmed by the immense void of satisfaction that was clamoring to be filled. He wasn’t coherent, enough, at the moment to really understand it.

He wasn’t coherent enough to argue, anyway.

He was stuck inside Dirge, just behind his interface hatch.

There was _plenty_ he could do, to keep him occupied.

Plenty…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

Dirge was trying, desperately, to be outraged.

He was trying to hate how the tables had turned, and was trying to hate being scraped up and being in pain, and was trying to hate not being able to move out of an alleyway while stunned onlookers gaped and chattered. He was trying to hate Frenzy.

It wasn’t happening.

Instead, he arched, his mouth gaping, his heels scraping over the concrete road beneath him as another wave of pleasure shook his form. He could feel Frenzy inside of him, laughing still, unhinged, gleefully stroking along wires and open connection lines that even the deepest external prodding could never have reached, satisfying urges Dirge had only guessed he had.

It was terrible.

It was terrible, to find new things he wanted, and be receiving them, and to be knowing that it was going to end in pain and never be able to happen again.

Each time electricity built, each time he could feel tiny teeth working their way over a frayed module until it sparked, each time he shouted “ _More_ ” and waited gleefully for more to come, he thrashed, and squirmed, and slowly his wings worked their way out of the gap in which he’d wedged himself. Even that only delighted him more, the feeling of his ailerons against the roadway, the knowledge that Frenzy gasped at the feedback inside of him, caught by surprise at how sensitive flight-mods could be.

Of course a jet body was the best. That was why he had one.

This was, however, too much for even his form to take.

He screamed as overload wracked him again, as the delightful feel of electricity shocked through to his wingtips and down to his heels, as he writhed on the pavement, knowing it would never be enough and yet already gasping in delight as the feeling started building up inside, again. All Frenzy had to do was move within his circuitry to illicit uncontrollable shivers, and Dirge wantonly enjoyed every one, so close to satisfaction, so close to really _feeling good…_

And looking up, laughing, at the dark shadow that fell on him.

“Soundwave.” He purred, and wriggled on the ground beneath the towering, silent mass. “You can’t kill me, now. We’re having too much fun.”

Soundwave said nothing, and slowly lowered himself to his knees beside the jet.

Aware that something was about to go horribly, completely wrong, Dirge whined softly, reaching out slowly toward the mech beside him, letting his claws ghost over a beautiful, white thigh. “D…Don’t be angry…” He whispered, and shivered as a cool blue hand drew over his searing hot interface hatch. “I didn’t eat him _all_ the way…”

The hand stroked downward, testing, and Dirge shifted into it, whimpering, needing that coolness in the face of all the building heat, the mounting desires…

And screaming in pain and ecstasy as Soundwave smoothly ripped the panel off.

That, finally, was too much.

It was all his shuddering body could take, and, at last, he finally slipped into stasis, hot, panting, utterly exhausted…

…and perhaps, for once in his life, finally satisfied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
